


How am I going to be an optimist about this?

by ithoughtslashmeanthorror



Series: See how deep the bullet lies [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Gotham (TV)
Genre: (Like everyone is confused af), Angst, Barbara is Oracle, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Fluff, Gen, a lot of confusion, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithoughtslashmeanthorror/pseuds/ithoughtslashmeanthorror
Summary: Barbara needs change.Bruce feels like changing back.Dick just wants it all to stay the same.Happy New Year.





	1. Take the path that moonbeams make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!  
> I am so sorry! If you ever read my Author Notes, then you know that in the last couple of weeks of the previous fic I was really struggling at work…  
> So I quit my job!  
> I have left the superannuation/law firm life and am back into my creative flair with a little bit of admin. Which is awesome! But I needed a few weeks to adjust / to myself and I am reinvigorated and reenergised!  
> But I am so disconnected from this series which, I’m annoyed about but! I re-read it all last week (and re-edited some parts read: grammar, spelling random commas) and I’m writing this little mini three chapters because I needed to get back in the swing of things before I uploaded the next part.

_January 1 st_

“Happy New Year!”

Fireworks burst in the sky, and she could see them and the Californian skyline from the wrap around balcony. Barbara stared at all the happy couples at the party, kissing and laughing. Some of them weren’t even couples. Some of them were just people who had met on a balcony in Star City that evening.

They all looked happier than she had felt for a long, long time.

She leant on the arm of her chair and smiled tiredly up at Dinah and Oliver.

Dinah had been her mentor when she was a teenager. It had been a favour to Bruce. Who better to teach a skinny female how to use momentum to lift a six-hundred-pound man and launch him across a room than another skinny female? But at some point, between drills and lessons, Barbara and Dinah had become friends. 

Best friends. 

When Barbara was shot into her wheelchair, and Jim Gordon got flustered helping his daughter in and out of the showers and watching videos on how to insert a catheter properly, Dinah had been there. When Dinah’s mother died, Barbara got on a plane and stayed with her in Star City until she stopped crying herself to sleep at night. When Ollie and Dinah got married, Barbara was her maid of honour, and in March Dinah was going to return the favour at Barbara’s wedding.

Oliver and Dinah had invited her and Tim to their Penthouse in Star City for New Year’s Eve. It was supposed to be their evening off. Time to spend together to relax after the craziness of the year, but at the last minute, Tim had run off into the night.

Killer Croc had escaped his sewer and was rampaging through the streets of Gotham, and Barbara understood that it was more important than a New Years party. She had even wanted to stay with Tim to help out, but he had kissed her sweetly and told her to have fun with Dinah. “You need this,” he said, and she agreed and got in the jet. He had texted her a ten to midnight that the situation was under control, and that he was beat and needed to sleep.

 _Next year, we’ll do NYE together. Promise,_ his text read.

“Happy New Year, Barbara,” Dinah said after she’d managed to get away from an amorous Oliver. He followed her, drunk with a beaming grin on his face. He was staring at Dinah like she was the sun and he was blinded, but he loved every second of it. It was sweet.

Oliver and Barbara had butted heads on many things over the years – Oliver insisted on acting like a White Knight and Barbara hacked his systems and put viruses in when he stole her cases – but he loved Dinah more than anything. She couldn’t fault him for that. “Yeah, Happy New Year, Red!” Oliver slurred just a little. He must have had a lot to drink because she had never known the playboy millionaire to be a lightweight.

“Happy New Year,” she laughed as Oliver leant down and pecked her on the cheek. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and looked between Dinah and Barbara.

“Look at me. Trapped between two of the hottest women in the League.”

“Oliver!” Dinah slapped his chest to quieten him down but laughed regardless.

“I’m still only League-adjacent,” Barbara added, rolling her eyes at Oliver.

“I always nominate you for the League,” Oliver boasted drunkenly. Barbara and Dinah both looked around to check if anyone was listening. Thankfully, everyone was in their New Year bubble still, watching the fireworks as Oliver talked candidly about their secret identities. “Every year Supes asks for our pick, and every year I say, ‘That Batgirl’s a catch. Smart, fierce, classy, and a looker.’”

“Oliver!” Dinah snapped, more harshly.

The look she gave him seemed to sober him up, and Oliver’s eyes popped out of his head as he looked down at Barbara again. “Shit. I mean Oracle. Sorry, Barbara.” He tinged red and the hand he had rested on her shoulder squeezed.

Barbara quickly laid her hand over Oliver’s and patted his knuckles. “It’s okay. I get it, Ollie. I do.” She lifted his hand off her and, with her other hand, wheeled her chair backwards. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

“Babs, he’s drunk and sorry. Please don’t leave,” Dinah insisted.

Barbara smiled. “I’m not leaving., I am just using the bathroom, D. Honestly, it’s fine. ”

Dinah smiled back at Barbara as she wheeled off but didn’t believe her. She, no doubt, started glaring at Oliver and berating him the moment Barbara turned her back to them. Sure enough, when Barbara was far enough to not be noticed, she looked over her shoulder, and Dinah was pouring Oliver water and poking him in the shoulder as she lectured him.

Barbara chuckled and looked away. But Dinah’s instincts were right. She wasn’t going to the bathroom.

She made her escape out of the penthouse, but it wasn’t because of Oliver’s lousy attempt at a drunken compliment. It honestly hadn’t bothered her. That much. She had been feeling off centre all night, and midnight had just exposed how much so. She was tired of being in a room full of people.

It had been a little over a week since she found out that not only was Bruce Wayne, the recently outed and declared dead Batman was alive but so was Jason Todd.

Jason Todd.

The second Robin, and her longest partner as Batgirl. She had been closer to him than she had been with her actual brother, James. In fact, it had been five years since Jason was kidnapped and four years since James abandoned their family, and Barbara still missed Jason more than him.

But it wasn’t the happiest of reunions.

Jason wasn’t the same. He’d done terrible things and some of those things he had done to her under a disguise, and worse, to her family. Tim, Dick, Bruce, and her father.

It was hard to reconcile him with the man who called himself Arkham Knight.

But they were one in the same.

Barbara took the elevator to the roof. Unlike some buildings in Gotham, Star City had lifts that opened onto the rooftop. It was built in a modern era, so things were more 'wheelchair accessible.' Barbara had to go through a room to get out onto the roof, but when she did, she took in the sweet air of Star City metropolis and had a pang for home.

Gotham wasn’t to everyone’s taste.

It was gloomy, rained half the year, and was the birthplace of some of the world’s most deranged supervillains. They weren’t much in the business for tourism, outside of businessmen and criminals (who were sometimes one in the same), the smell of acrid garbage was so ingrained in everything that it almost became easy to ignore, and the city was definitely not wheelchair friendly, but it was home. Every grubby grey inch of it.

She loved her home, and all she had ever wanted to do was keep it safe.

Barbara wheeled over to the edge. There was a short ledge, that was the perfect height for her to lean against. She rested her elbow and pressed her chin against her palm.

What Oliver said didn’t matter. Not really. She was Batgirl, even though she hadn’t touched her mask in years. She created Batgirl because she wanted to protect her city.

She could protect her city as Oracle to an extent. Gotham had the lowest rate of cybercrime in the country because of Oracle, and tracking and remotely taking down criminals was her thing but…

Barbara looked out over the rooftops of Star City and closed her eyes.

She had been seventeen when Dick had taken her and Jason to visit Roy and Mia in Star City. She still remembered the five of them, running out across the rooftops, bounding, swinging, and flying.

Dick had been the one to teach her how.

She had been Batgirl for almost two months, and her landings left something to be desired. Her ankles and knees were always killing her, and she couldn’t always land where she wanted. “Practice with Dick,” Bruce had told her one night, and they both squawked their objections but were shut down by a firm glare.

He had let her into his gym, a room that would have been the envy of any professional gymnast, and led her to the trapeze. “I’m going to teach you how my Dad taught me,” Dick said.

“How was that?” Barbara asked.

“We’ll go together.”

Barbara squeezed her eyes shut to shut down the memory.

God, she missed flying.

Properly flying, the way Dick had taught her to. With her body swinging, her arms straining just enough to hold her weight, and a city beneath her feet. Dick had taken her out again on the trapeze after the shooting.

It had been fantastic, but it hadn’t been the same.

 _It could be the same,_  she thought  

She took out her phone and flicked through to Jason’s number, pressing _dial_ before she thought it through.

The phone called through, and no one answered, getting a polite robotic answering machine.

_He’s probably on the beach, watching the fireworks and-_

Barbara’s phone rang, and she almost dropped it over the ledge when it did.

She didn’t have Jason’s name on her phone, but the number was saved, and she recognised it when it flashed up on the screen. She answered quickly, afraid he might hang up. “Hello?” she asked.

“Hey.” Jason sounded half asleep. And even though she felt guilty for waking him up, it was only a few weeks ago that she’d been certain she would never hear his voice again. He was clearing his throat. “Sorry I missed the call. What’s up?”

Barbara frowned. “Did I wake you?”

“Hmm,” he replied. “S’okay, though. Only been about an hour.”

“Sorry, Jay. I just thought because it was New Years and–”

“It’s what?” Jason asked. There was a shuffle, and she could imagine him getting out of bed. “Oh. That’s why they were looking at me funny when I said I didn’t want to go to the beach with them… I didn’t even realise… Shit, that means it was Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” Barbara said, a smiling spreading out over her face. She remembered Jason’s first Christmas at Wayne Manor, and how he’d given her a book voucher because he wasn’t sure what she read. They went together to the bookstore after New Year’s, and she got a book about coding. From then on, whenever Jason saw a book about coding or computers that he thought she might like, it would show up on her windowsill wrapped in brown paper and with a little J scribbled in the corner.

He chuckled. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiled. “And a Happy New Year.”

There was a lull, and Jason asked awkwardly, “Do you need something?”

Barbara wasn’t sure. She watched the end of the fireworks, her fingers anxiously tapping along the cold brick ledge. “How do you know Sheila? I looked her up. She used to work in Gotham.”

Jason sighed and cleared his throat. “Can you give me a minute?”

Barbara wanted to say no, but she held that back. “Okay.”

There was movement on the other side of the phone. “I’m just going downstairs to make a coffee. Hold on,” he said, and soon enough she heard the machine being switched on. There was a long pause where Barbara began to grow impatient. Between cups being taken out of cupboards and spoons from drawers and then finally, a chair moving and a sigh. “Sheila Haywood dated my Dad. Before I was born. When my mom died, I looked for her. I was looking for family, and I thought… Doesn’t matter. I was a dumb kid.”

Barbara knew Jason when he was a kid, and he was anything but dumb. But he had been desperate for people. For a family. He would have gone searching for one in Sheila. “When I was with Joker, he… he kidnapped her too, to use against me,” Jason said quietly. Barbara’s stomach twisted and then she remembered.

Remembered the drug-addicted woman who Tim and Bruce had found in place of Jason. “Wait. _That_ Sheila?”

Jason paused. “You know her?”

“Just heard about her through B.” Or more specifically, through case files. Bruce hated the woman, and despite his hardened demeanour, it took a lot of effort for Bruce to hate someone. “Last I heard, she was in a psych ward. They couldn’t get her off the JKS. It was The Joker’s own drug, and it killed most of its users.”

“I don’t know about that. Joker told me he killed her, but she told me the Joker let her out the same night I got out. She cleaned herself up.”

Both were lies, and it didn’t leave Barbara feeling good about the situation. “How did you find her?”

“By chance. I did a job for an anonymous client, went to deliver and it was her. She didn’t know I was on the other end of the call, I didn’t know she’d been the one who made the call. But when I realised, I didn’t take her money. It was a five-million-dollar job, and her sponsors were thrilled I waived the fee.”

Barbara didn’t like that idea. It didn’t sit right. It sounded _too much_ like chance.

Bats didn’t believe in chance.

“Jay,” she whispered. “You said she owes you? Owes you what?”

Jason huffed. “I told you, Babs. I wanted to fix everything that the Joker had broken… That includes you.”

 _Includes_ , she heard his word again in her head, and Barbara’s stomach clenched.

“I don’t need fixing, Jason,” she said, her voice rough. She didn’t even realise the tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m not broken. I’m fine.”

Jason groaned. “Babs, I didn’t mean–”

“I wasn’t an easy target,” she snapped, her fingers clenching over the arm of her chair. She could still remember the Arkham Knight roughly pulling her over his shoulder and carrying her down the stairs of the Clocktower. “Just because I’m in a wheelchair, doesn’t make me an easy target.”

Jason sighed and didn’t defend himself. “I’m sorry.”

Barbara wiped her eyes. “I got to go.”

“Barbie, wait,” Jason said quickly, and she did. The two of them in stark silence.

A year ago, if someone had asked Barbara what she would say if she had Jason on the phone she would get so overwhelmed she’d bury herself in her work for a month.

But now Barbara just didn’t know.

“I’m sorry,” Jason repeated.

Barbara flinched, and his apology sounded just as bad as his insinuation. Because wasn’t she just wishing that she could run across rooftops again? How could she be mad at him when she wanted to be out of the wheelchair just as much as he wanted to help her get out? “Just tell me,” she whispered. “Does it work?”

Without hesitation, or missing a beat, Jason replied, “I wouldn’t have taken you that night if it didn’t.”

Another long, heavy pause opened a chasm between them. Barbara felt like the world was dropping out beneath her, and she had to wheel herself away from the edge of the building. “I got to go. Goodnight Jason,” she whispered.

“Night Barbie,” he said, sounding defeated.

Neither of them hung up, and Barbara realised she had to do it first. She did and dropped her phone into her lap, and pressed her hands into her palms. She let out a weak sob that couldn’t be helped.

She was so overwhelmed.

It shouldn’t have been a choice. It shouldn’t have been tearing her apart.

_You could walk again._

But that petrified her.

“Barbara?”

Barbara hadn’t heard the elevator doors open or even Dick approach. He knelt in front of her, pulling her chair closer and looked under her downturned face to look up at her. She smelt alcohol on him, and she sucked in a short, sharp breath and wiped her face. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to control her tears.

She didn’t know he was at the party. As far as she knew, Dick was in Gotham.

“Ollie invited me,” Dick said. He cleared his throat, and his hands rested on her thighs, keeping her close. “He wanted me to bring Roy, and I managed to get him to Star City airport, but I lost him in baggage claim.”

He smiled weakly, and Barbara chuckled, wiping underneath her eyes. “He’s not drinking, is he?”

“I called his favourite bars and all the ones he’d go to, to avoid me. They’re all on Roy-Watch.”

Barbara nodded, clearing her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dick shook his head. “Not really. I’ve been kind of a dick to him since Mexico.”

Barbara couldn’t help but smirk. “You. Dick?”

He rolled his eyes. “Har-har,” he said, voice filled with sarcasm. Their eyes met in the short distance between them, and his smirk untwisted from his face. “No. It was just everything in Mexico. It was a lot. I’m not really dealing, and Roy keeps asking me about Bruce, and I just don’t know what to say.”

“You should tell him the truth,” she whispered.

“What about Jason? How do I tell Roy, ‘hey my Dad and my brother are both alive, but yeah your baby girl is still dead?’” His fingers tightened on her legs as he spoke and, though she couldn’t feel it, she could see the whites of his knuckles.

Barbara sighed and ran a hand through Dick’s hair, tilting his head back, so he was forced to look at her. “It’s not fair,” she whispered. “A lot of things aren’t fair.”

The look he gave her reminded Barbara of what Bruce had told her and the others about Dick and Tarantula. About what he’d been keeping from her all those years. Even on the plane ride back to Gotham, Dick had been quieter than usual. He’d been morose. “I don’t think that it’s just Bruce and Jason that’s making you mad at Roy,” she said, and Dick blushed and turned away. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“Barb,” he began, but she hushed him.

“If not me, then tell Roy. At the very least he can help you with that.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but he was lying. “It was a long time ago.”

Barbara pressed her lips together. “Tell Roy.” Dick frowned but before he could object, Barbara nudged him. “He’s your best friend. You two have been to hell and back together, and he cares about you, Dick.” Barbara considered what he said earlier, and her eyebrow quirked up. “Wait, did you tell Roy you were bringing him to Star City?”

The seriousness died from Dick’s face, and a grin sheepishly widened his cheeks. “Yes, I did. On the plane.”

With a roll of her eyes, Barbara put her hands over Dick’s and squeezed. “Yeah. It’s a real wonder why he ran away from you.”

The sheepish look on his face increased, and it got a chuckle out of Barbara. The only served to widen his grin further. “I got you to laugh. Now, are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”

Barbara’s smile sobered. “It’s not important.”

“Barbs,” he whispered. He rubbed her hands with his thumbs, then reached up his right hand to hold her cheek. “I’ll talk to you, but you have to talk to me too?”

Barbara stared down at Dick, and his eyes were so big and open and close. He was so close.

Maybe it was the champagne.

Maybe it was the phone call.

Maybe it was because ever since Jason handed her that card Barbara had been out of her mind with what _could have_ been.

But the memory she tried to shut down earlier, of Dick, teaching her how to fly, rose back up. Suddenly she could remember what he felt like, pressed up behind her, his torso curved around her spine, and the length of his legs pressed against hers. She could remember the feeling of her legs. What he felt like touching them.

She leant down, cupping Dick’s face with her hands and pressed their mouths together. Dick made a noise and Barbara leant in closer as he lifted himself up enough to angle their bodies together.

Kissing Dick was like breathing in.

A rush of oxygen that cleared her brain and filled her lungs as if she’d been drowning only moments before. Dick moved closer, half standing and straddling her knees. Barbara hooked her arms around his neck and Dick cupped her jaw for half a second before he pushed her away.

And like that, all the oxygen was sucked out of her, and she was gasping again. With a lack of air came clarity that _shit, I just kissed Dick. I kissed my ex. I kissed my fiancés brother. I kissed Dick…_ “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she mumbled.

“Babs, I… we… _Tim_ …” Dick stuttered out and rubbed his face, stepping backwards.

“I’m drunk,” she said. “I’m just drunk. I’m sorry. I…”

“Nope, it’s fine.” Dick put his hands above his head, and his shirt rode up, showing some of his stomach and Barbara felt sick as she imagined her fingers spreading up his torso. “Nothing happened.”

Barbara nodded. “Yeah. Nothing happened.”

Dick shuddered and glanced at her, almost as if it was painful to do so. “Barbs if you don’t want to marry Tim–”

“I won’t crawl back to you, don’t worry,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

Dick shook his head. “No. That’s not what I was going to…” He swallowed and ran his hands through his hair. “Tim’s my little brother, Barbs. And as much as I… as much as _you_ mean to me, I can’t be on your side if you break his heart.”

 Barbara cleared her throat and shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to break his heart.”

“Good,” Dick said. He looked out across the city and sniffed and Barbara looked up to see his eyes were red. It happened so quickly, and the guilt from being the one who made Dick cry punched her in the gut. “I’m going to go find Roy. God only knows what he’s doing out there by himself tonight.”

“Yeah,” Barbara said, nodding her head. She wrapped her arms around herself and sniffed back her own tears. “Go. Say hi.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” Dick didn’t look back at her. He didn’t even say goodbye as he rubbed his lips clean of their kiss, and walked into the building and went downstairs.

Before the elevator doors were even shut, Barbara tugged out her wallet and her mobile and dialled another number. “Hey, where’d you go?” Dinah answered.

“I need your help,” Barbara replied. “It’s one of those no questions asked situations. Just you, me and a jet. Downstairs in twenty.”

“Make it ten,” Dinah said.

A smile spread out over Barbara’s face. “Thank you.”

“No need, babe. Ollie might be my husband, but you’re still my Ride or Die.”

Barbara smirked. “Ride or die.” She touched the wheel of her tyre, and her smile faded slightly. “Ride or die,” she murmured quietly, once the phone was hung up.

Because she wasn’t giving up without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the writing style may seem a little off. But like I said, I'm getting back into the swing of things... adjusting, if you will. lol...


	2. Motown and a shared bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad so many of you have come back! 
> 
> And also, to everyone who keeps posting, "I've read this for the fifth/sixth/twentieth time"... AWW
> 
> I love that so much.
> 
> Thank you guys!

_January 1 st_

Dick had to give it to him.

When Roy didn’t want to be found, he knew how to disappear.

If it weren’t for Dick's own public profile, he probably wouldn’t have been able to track Roy down. But to maintain his public aloofness to go along with being the offspring of Bruce Wayne’s _Brucie_  personality, he’d made friends with all club owners across multiple cities.

Unluckily for Roy early in the morning of the first day of the year, D’Angelo Brown who owned the Foxtrot in the Glades called him up. “I think I found your boy. Redhead parked on a stool. Ordered a drink but he’s just staring at it.”

Dick asked him to hold Roy there and make sure that he didn’t do anything.

The bar was grimy.

Or maybe it was the daylight that struggled through the painted windows and showed the previous night’s mayhem. A lot of things were hidden in the dark; morning had a habit of revealing the worst parts of everything. The Supremes were playing on the jukebox and the bartender, mopping up something stick on the floor, was bouncing his head along to the song.

Roy was just where D’Angelo said he was. He had a seat out the back, closest to the exit and he hadn’t looked up from the drink he was staring at.

He looked terrible.

Still dressed in the jeans and shirt Dick left him in, they didn’t look so clean and pressed anymore. He’d clearly been fighting. Maybe he’d run across some robbers or something else he could punch in the meantime. Hopefully, he was all punched out and would forgive Dick for lying to him.

Roy’s face when he realised they were going to spend New Year’s with Oliver had been…

Angry didn’t describe it.

Dick was surprised he wasn’t turned into a punching bag.

He walked around the bartender, nodding to him and took out his wallet, withdrawing a hundred-dollar bill. “You paid for that yet?” Dick asked, sliding in the seat next to Roy.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t startle. He just stared at the glass with a frown. “Six hours ago,” he said.

Dick nodded and looked over to the bartender. “I’m just going to help myself to help myself to the bottle,” he called out, waving the hundred. The bartender nodded, and Dick leaned over and fished out the whiskey and his own glass. It was a new bottle. Roy had, had the first nip, and the rest was filled.

Dick poured half a glass and knocked it back in one hit, then poured the second one as he cleared his burning throat and looked at Roy. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Happy New Year,” was Roy’s bitter reply. “Can you leave me alone now?”

“No one deserves to drink alone. Didn’t you tell me that?”

“I’m not exactly known for practicing what I preach.” Roy slid his finger around the rim of the glass and Dick swallowed, painfully aware of how easy it was for Roy to slip into old habits. How scared he and Wally had been to find him with a needle next to his head curled up in a ball on his bed and unresponsive.

Alcohol wasn’t heroin, but he had never been picky when it came to the substances he chose to abuse. Dick decided to change the topic. “Barbara kissed me.”

Roy paused his finger just for a second. He pushed it around again, only slower. He didn’t say anything, so Dick just sighed. “She kissed me, and I might have kissed her back just a bit. But then I pushed her away because… well, she’s marrying Timmy. In three months.”

Roy didn’t budge.

Dick rubbed his face. “I don’t know why she kissed me. I don’t know why I kissed her back.” Roy snorted and rolled his eyes and Dick frowned. “What?”

“You know why you kissed her back,” Roy muttered.

Dick did. He loved Barbara. He would always kiss her back, even when it was wrong to do so. She was his kryptonite, forever and always. Dick sighed and rubbed his face. “Fine. I know why I kissed her back. But I don’t know why she kissed me.”

There was a long pause. Roy’s jaw twitched. “Why’d you bring me here?” Roy asked, still not dragging his eyes away from the cup. “Cause I’m not in the mood to play Dickie’s therapist.”

Dick’s stomach turned. He sunk down in his stool. “I don’t know. You said you and Ollie were talking again.”

Roy huffed. “I said I was talking to Green Arrow again. Not Oliver.”

“How bad would you kill me to say it’s the same thing?”

“Pretty fucking bad, Dickie.”

Dick sculled the second glass and poured himself a third. “It’s the same thing, Roy.”

“Tell that to Batman and then repeat it to Bruce Wayne.” Without lifting his gaze, Roy darted his hand out and grabbed the bottle and stopped Dick halfway through his pouring. He took the bottle from him and put it down on his other side. “Stop. You’re a lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight.”

“Compared to me you are.”

“You’re an alcoholic,” Dick countered. Roy rolled his eyes. They were both right. Compared to Roy, Dick was very lightweight. But compared to most other people, Dick had been trained to keep a steady hand even under the influence. He glared at the table. “I don’t know why she kissed me.”

“Cause she loves you,” Roy huffed. “And she keeps pretending like she doesn’t because you keep acting like you’re invincible.”

“I’m not invincible,” Dick agreed. He was surprised. He was thinking about Tarantula; he could feel her hands on his chest. “I think Barbara kissed me because she feels sorry for me.”

With a softer more exasperated sigh, Roy repeated his previous question. “ _Why_ did you bring me here?”

Dick’s face softened. “Roy, you’ve been living with me.”

“Your adopted-father died, Dickhead. I thought I was being nice.”

“You were being nice. But I know you, Roy. I know when things aren’t right with you. No one even knew where you were before Halloween.”

Roy flinched and rubbed the rim of his cup. “You haven’t answered the question. You’re avoiding it.”

Dick’s lip twitched. He was. He had to. Barbara kissed him, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know if she had kissed him because she still had feelings for him or if because she saw him as something different. Something to be pitied. Something that needed to be reminded that he was whole.

It only made telling Roy so much harder.

Because Barbara had been right. He wanted to tell Roy. Wanted to Wally and Donna. But he didn’t want things to change. He just needed them to know, which was just as confusing. He squinted his eyes and rubbed at his face as he tried to figure out _why_.

“I wanted to give you an out,” Dick rasped, and he flinched as he realised that wasn’t exactly it either. “I wanted to give you an option, other than my place in case… in case I needed you to go.” Because if Roy changed, Dick wouldn’t be able to handle it. He wouldn’t be able to live with him if he wasn’t… _Roy_.

Roy frowned. “You’re kicking me out?”

Dick shook his head. “No. But… but I needed it to be an option. And I needed to know you’d be okay.”

Roy waited, for Dick to say more, but Dick needed more liquid courage. He leaned across Roy to grab the bottle, but Roy grabbed his wrist and finally looked up from his cup. “What the hell is going on, Dick? You’re giving me an out? You’re kicking me out? You want me to be okay? You’re making zero sense right now.”

Dick’s brain was making zero sense. His throat went dry, and he wondered why he hadn’t tried talking to Wally first. Or maybe even telling both of them together. Why did he have to tell them at all? 

_Because it’s hurting and you need them to know._

Dick hushed the voice inside because he couldn’t bare to hear how right it was.

He just decided to follow through.

“Some things happened… in Mexico. It made me realise that… that in some ways, I’m not as okay as I thought I was.”

Roy considered this, studying his face. “Don’t make me pry it out of you. I’m not in that kind of mood.”

Dick cleared his throat and pried his wrist out of Roy’s grip and drank whatever was left in his third glass to give him some sort of lubrication. It was his turn to stare into the glass. “I don’t know where to start.”

“At the beginning,” Roy said.

“Yeah, but which one?” he laughed darkly. He licked his lips. “Jason is alive.”

There was a beat. A moment where the room fell silent. Even though Smokey Robinson was still playing, and the sloshing of the bucket was still there, there was a buzzing in both of their ears as they digested that.

Roy’s hands tightened over his glass. “What?”

Dick nodded slowly. “He… He’s alive, and he’s with… B in Mexico. That was why Bruce took so long to reach out. He was taking care of him.” He lowered his voice, highly aware of how there was another person in the room. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he cleared his throat. “But um… that wasn’t…” Dick mindlessly slipped his hand over Roy’s where it looked like it was going to break the glass and wedged his fingers between his hand and the cup.

When he successfully managed to get it out of his hand, he knocked that glass back too.

“Jason was kidnapped while we were there… something happened and…”

Roy frowned. “Hold on. How is Jason _alive_? He died five years ago, Dick. We went to his funeral.”

“It was an empty casket. You knew that.”

“But there was some pretty solid evidence. Or I thought there was.”

Dick shook his head. “There was a video. It looked like he died. B thought he was dead. But he wasn’t. Roy, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

Roy’s face hardened. “What the fuck else is there?”

The bartender glanced over, and Dick’s face went red. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe. But he had to tell someone because since seeing Tarantula again, his chest felt as though it was on fire. The long talk with Bruce had helped, and the fact he knew his immediate family was there for him was great, but Roy, Wally, and Donna were family too. He needed them just as much as he needed the rest.

Or maybe he just had to say it aloud.

Jason and Bruce figured it out.

Barbara, Tim, Alfred, and Selina heard it from Bruce.

 _Telling Roy was always going to be the hardest,_ he thought to himself.

Because he could already see Roy getting angry. “I was raped,” he said.

He barely breathed the words.

Mouthed them more like it and Roy frowned at him, not understanding. Dick suddenly had tears in his eyes, and his fists were clenched on his lap because that wasn’t how he wanted to say it. “I was raped,” he said, louder still and he became focused on the same glass Roy had been staring at when he walked in. “I… I’ve never said that before. Not those words. Not out loud. Not to… anyone.”

He felt the anger rolling off Roy. Felt it encompass him and drown him. “Was it – _Who_ was it?” His voice was barely contained rage, shivering and shaking. The last time Dick had heard that in Roy’s voice was when he’d stopped himself from killing Prometheus.

Barely stopped himself.

Dick shook his head. “You don’t have to avenge me or anything. Jason already almost killed her.”

“ _Her_?”

Dick flinched, still not looking at the expression on Roy’s face, but balled his fist so tight that the nails digging into his palm almost caused him to bleed. He gaped, not quite sure how to tell Roy that, yes it was a woman.

There was a minute. A long pause, as Roy’s brain, caught up to his mouth. “Not that it’s any different– Dick, that was not what I–”

“Roy,” Dick interrupted him, clearing his throat. “I get it. I know you… just…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I just had to say it. Out loud. To someone.”

Roy still sounded pissed. “Who was it, Dickiebird?” There was a threat there, and Dick shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. It happened years ago, but we bumped into her in Mexico. She’s in A.R.G.U.S. lockup now.”

Roy took a long time to think and his voice lowered. “Tarantula.”

Dick looked up at Roy, his head snapping into place. “What? How’d you–?”

Roy huffed, but his jaw was still clenched and both his hands were fisted and sitting on the bar. “You’re right. I haven’t been myself for the last few months. I disappeared and, I had been on my way to Blüdhaven anyway, to ask you for help. Jade is locked up with A.R.G.U.S. Waller recruited her for her Suicide Squad. She wants me to help break her out, but I don’t know if I can. I get… letters. She wrote to me last week telling me about Catalina, and I was going to tell you because she was your former student, but I guess you already knew.” Roy caught Dick’s eye finally.

When he’d seen Tarantula – really _seen_ her – after Jason had taken his Titan juiced fists to her face, he couldn’t help but think she looked dead. She wasn’t. Tim checked, twice. But it frightened Dick how little he had cared what happened to her, one way or the other. He had never felt like that before. A resolute absence of feeling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Roy asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Dick licked his lips. “I have been asked that question a lot in the last few weeks. I just didn’t want to talk about it. With anyone. Then I saw her and… I could barely stand up in front of her and… and I realised I’m not as over it as I thought I was. So, I’m trying now.”

They both stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Roy twitched his jaw. “I’ll kill her. Or Chesh can. She hates her anyway. Don’t think A.R.G.U.S. can arrest her twice.”

“I already had to watch Bruce put down Jason to stop him from killing her,” Dick whispered. What a sight that had been. Bruce and Jason had collided like titans, and the look of defeat on Bruce’s face the whole flight back to Mazatlán made the guilt burn worse than any alcohol. “Please don’t make me go through that again.”

“Some people deserve to die, Dick.” There was no humor in his voice or in his eyes. He tightened his jaw. “If she ever comes near you again and I’m nearby, I will kill her.”

There it was again. That strange absence of anything. His body was cold all over and numb like he’d been forced into an ice bath.

He shook the feeling off with a deep breath and grabbed the bottle, pouring another drink out and sculling it in one shot. “Well, I don’t plan on being near her ever again.”

Roy strummed his fingers on the bar. “And you want me out of your apartment now? Because you told me?”

Dick shook his head. “No. I… I can’t handle it, Roy. I think… I think Barbara kissed me because she pities me or something. I don’t want that. I don’t want pity or remorse or… Fuck, Roy. I don’t even want you to feel like you have to avenge me. I just want it to be the same. My family… Jason guessed when he mentioned her. Then Bruce guessed, and he told everyone for me… And I haven’t _told_ anyone before. I don’t know. I need someone to talk to, but I don’t know if you want to be that person, and I didn’t… Roy, I–”

Roy cut off Dick’s spiel by snatching the glass out of his hand. Dick’s eyes widened in panic as Roy poured a glass from the bottle. He almost knocked it out of his hand, angry with himself for driving him to drink but instead of sculling it, Roy handed him the glass filled to the brim with amber liquid. He held it out expectantly and glared until Dick took it with shaking hands. “Drink,” Roy said.

Dick deflated and knocked the glass back in one go. “You of all people shouldn’t be encouraging someone to drink away their feelings,” Dick hissed, burning liquor making it momentarily difficult to speak.

“Don’t practice what I preach. It’s what keeps me sober,” Roy muttered. He rubbed his face and looked around the bar as though he was seeing it for the first time. “As much as I love Motown, let’s blow this joint. It stinks like my depression in here.”

Dick tried smiling. “Am I forgiven?”

Roy raised his eyebrow. “For bringing me to Ollie to try and palm me off to him after you made a big confession about someone hurting you? No. But you’re in no state for me to beat the living shit out of you and I haven’t seen a bed in over twenty-four hours and need the sleep.”

“Where are we going?” Dick asked quietly.

Roy shrugged. “Am I still welcome in ‘Haven? Keeping in mind that I promise not to treat you like a glass princess.”

Dick sighed, relief rolling off him. “Always, Roy. Even if you did.”

“Then let’s go home, Dickiebird.” He reached into Dick’s jacket and snatched his keys. “But I’m driving. You are in no state.” He grabbed the bottle and handed it to Dick. “Finish that, would you? It’s a waste.”

He nodded to the bartender and walked ahead of Dick.

With no one watching him, Dick let his shoulders drop.

The world hadn’t broken.

Nothing had changed.

Roy hadn’t changed.

 _I can do this,_ he thought to himself. _I can still be Dick Grayson._

It was the first time he’d even thought that but he realised that, for so long that he had been afraid he couldn’t be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviewers are just genuinely kinder people.


	3. Dream a little dream of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small context... I’ve grown up on the East Coast of Australia and lived on a beach. I always saw the sun rise over the water.
> 
> First time I saw the sun set into the water and not over the city, I was on an island in Greece and freaked out. It was so beautiful but so different! That was the inspiration for the first part of the chapter. (Except I loved it... Bruce, not so much)

The warm sun woke Bruce up

The first day of a new year.

Selina was on his chest, warm and comforting.

Jason was down the hall, asleep thankfully and sans a nightmare.

Alfred was safe and alive and with them.

Dick, Tim and Barbara were alive and well and their relationships weren’t perfect, but they were mending.

Bruce turned his head to look out the window to the beach. Living on the west side of the country meant not seeing the sunrise over the water. It was strange for Bruce, who had always watched the sunset over his city, to see it fall over an endless ocean.

He missed the way it rose over the ocean. The way it plunged Gotham into darkness. The way he owned the night.

Bruce winced, guiltily.

Despite how warm he was.

Despite how content he was.

Despite how _good_ it felt to have Jason and his family back.

He kept dreaming of bats.

Swarming in caves and rising from the twin graves of his parents. Plunging a golden city into darkness and then pulling out the towers of gold back into the light.

He wasn’t sure what it all meant.

But in those dreams, he felt a longing. A longing to be back in the thick of it. To be amongst the bats, diving into the golden city and protecting it. Staring into the ocean where a sun set into nothingness felt wrong. It was as if the world was going to end that way.

Selina shifted, and turned away from him, resting her head on the pillow instead of his chest. Bruce looked down in surprise. They hadn’t really slept the night before, getting home in the early hours of the morning from a party down in town and Bruce had only gotten in an hour before he woke up.

He reached over to the bedside and grabbed the remote that put down the curtains, plunging the room into darkness and got up out of bed. Selina could sleep in, he decided. But he needed coffee.

He climbed out of bed silently, using his stalking skills so Selina wouldn’t wake up. _Great. That’s what I’m using my honed senses for now._ He couldn’t help the snarky thought. He tried to dial it back. Tried, but failed.

He pulled on some pants and a t-shirt, then crept downstairs only to hear the tell-tale grumble off the coffee pot. Entering the kitchen, he half expected to see Alfred there, a new but familiar sight in Mazatlán. What he hadn’t expected was to see Jason, sitting at the bench, head on the table and his hands held tight over his arms.

He jumped when Bruce entered, looking wildly around and when their eyes met, he relaxed back in his barstool rubbing his face. “Shit. Sorry. Lost in thought.”

Bruce frowned, staring at him. “It seemed pretty important.”

Jason shook his head. “Just… stuff. Keeps circling.”

“Want to talk about it?” Bruce asked.

Jason cracked half a smile, and it creased the 'J' carved into his face by the monster who kidnapped him all those years ago. “Now, now, Bruce. Don’t want to start the year off all dark and gruesome now, do we?”

Bruce raised his eyebrow. The night before, Jason had seemed oblivious to the celebrations when Selina and Alfred asked him to join them on the beach. Bruce figured Jason had forgotten the date and decided it was best not to bother him with it. Sometimes, acknowledging how much time had gone by only made it worse. Sometimes, Bruce knew, you had to let time disappear in the hourglass and keep your back turned to it. “Didn’t realise you knew what day it was.”

Jason shook his head. “I didn’t. Not really. Barbie called me last night and gave me a heads up.”

“Oh?” Bruce said lightly.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh,” he replied. “She just called to say Happy New Year. Then I realised it was New Year and I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Bruce nodded understandingly, but after a minute Jason rolled his eyes. “You could have told me, you know. I would have come last night if I hadn’t forgotten.”

“I didn’t want to push you,” Bruce said.

Jason huffed, glaring the bench. “I don’t know if I’m grateful or annoyed about that.”

Bruce shrugged. “You can be both.”

Jason lifted his dark blue eyes up to Bruce and rolled them a second time. “You’re very diplomatic this morning. New year, new you?”

Sensing that, whatever was bothering Jason he didn’t want to talk about, Bruce decided to go with the change of topic. “You’re very snarky. No resolutions for you then?”

Jason let out a laugh that visibly deflated him, and he relaxed, rubbing his face. “I don’t think I could handle any more change, to be honest.”

The coffee pot was ready, and Bruce leant across and took the mug Jason had in front of him and got a second from the cupboard. He heaped in sugar for him and kept his own black, then poured in the brew and slid it across to Jason. “Just this once.” He sat down on the adjacent corner from Jason, and under the table, their knees bounced. Jason shifted slightly but didn’t look bothered.

“You have that whole ‘no-sugar’ rant so well-rehearsed that you should be a dentist,” Jason said. “You have the lack of expression and interpersonal skills, and I’ve seen you extract suicide pills from people’s teeth before.”

“Bruce Wayne, dentist,” Bruce tested. He sipped his coffee, pretending to mull it over. “I could make my own hours.”

“You’re going to have to wear scrubs though. Bright blue ones… Maybe even pink, depending on the clinic you work at.”

Bruce grimaced like the coffee tasted bad. “No. That wouldn’t work.”

Jason laughed, appearing less stressed. “I’d pay to see it though.”

The laughter and the way his body relaxed made Bruce exhale, and for a moment everything felt right again. Bruce sipped his coffee, trying to push back the anxiety his dream caused. “I look better in black,” he said, despite himself.

Jason’s laughed died down into a snort. “Oh… I see.” He sipped on his coffee but didn’t elaborate, and Bruce frowned.

“See what?” Bruce asked after a stretch of silence.

Jason smirked. “You’re starting to get twitchy.”

Bruce frowned. “Twitchy?”

“You’ve been quiet too long,” Jason said. “Sitting still. You’re not good at that.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I once stood on the side of a building for a whole day straight without moving. I can be still.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Not when you’re like this you can’t, B. Don’t get me wrong, you could wait by our side like a gargoyle when we were down, but as soon as we were better, you were itching to get out. Dick and I had this running tally of who could hold your attention for the longest after we recovered. Who won is up for debate. I got you pinned for two weeks after I was beaten up by Ra’s al Ghul when I was like – what? Fourteen? But then you disappeared to do something with the League for a month. Dick used to say it didn’t count because you were looking for Ra’s and doing work while I was still recovering but you didn’t leave the cave, so I think it does. Other than that, it was ten days when Dick came back from his undercover mission with Slade. Then you left and took on ten new cases because you’d been stationary for so long.”

Bruce frowned. “I didn’t do that.”

“B, it’s fine,” Jason assured him. “We weren’t offended. We thought it was funny. Honestly, I should be happy. You deem me well enough to leave me alone.”

Bruce felt unnerved by that insight. Was that the reason why he was obsessing over bats and the direction which the sun set? Was it because somewhere in his head he thought Jason was okay?

Because he wasn’t okay.

The shadows under his eyes were better but not gone, and the nightmares weren’t as frequent, but they were still there. Bruce recoiled thinking of all the times the boys had been sick, and he’d always wait until he knew they were going to be okay before he left. Sometimes they needed a few extras days, but they weren’t going to die, so it didn’t matter.

Not when there was a city to save, and he knew they could fend for themselves.

The shame crept up on Bruce that he was doing it again. There was nothing for him to go back to – warrants out for his arrest, a life under scrutiny and a city that wanted him dead – but he still wanted back in. “I’m sorry,” Bruce said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jason frowned over his coffee and put down the mug. “You don’t have to go anywhere, B. I mean, Mexico isn’t exactly free from crime.” He shrugged. “Go out. Get your rocks off beating people up. Come back. Relax.”

“It’s not…” Bruce huffed and shook his head. “It’s not beating people up, Jay. I never liked that.”

Jason scoffed. “Sure.”

“I didn’t. It was cathartic sometimes but, mostly, it was necessary.”

The look on Jason’s face said he didn’t believe him. But he didn’t say anything about it, and he looked down at the table, tracing patterns in the marble. “It’s still necessary.”

Bruce raised his eyebrow. “Hmm?”

Jason shrugged, his attempt to appear disinterested disingenuous. “There was crime in Gotham before Batman. There’s gonna be crime afterwards. I don’t know how good Timmy is. Not sure if he can handle it all alone.”

Jason wasn’t looking at Bruce, but the way his shoulders were stiffened and his jaw tight he was trying not to say something. _Ask something is more like it,_ Bruce thought to himself.

The unspoken words were there.

_Are you going back to Gotham?_

Because what was Bruce Wayne without Gotham? What was Gotham without The Batman?

 _Neither of them exists anymore_ , he reminded himself.

“I don’t know how to go back,” Bruce said. “I don’t think we can.”

They would have to live underground. Jason might be able to go out. He didn’t look too much like his fifteen-year-old self, but he would need a fake ID and some other things to get by. But Bruce was too recognisable. The hat and sunglasses didn’t work in Gotham. There were too many starving paparazzi looking for D-list celebrities.

Jason had his eyebrow quirked up. He had latched onto a different part of the conversation. “We?” Bruce lifted his head up and caught Jason’s eye, filled with mirth but also an underlying panic. “So wherever you go, I go?”

“No,” Bruce said slowly. He didn’t want to scare him off, but he wasn’t sure what answer would. “Not if you don’t want to come. But wherever I go, I’d like you to visit.”

Jason mulled this over, staring into his cup without blinking as if the cup was trying to psych him out. “I told you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Bruce nodded. “Then you won’t be,” he said, settling that once and for all. “And if we go back to Gotham one day, we’ll make that decision together.”

“Together,” Jason agreed slowly. He looked up from his coffee cup with a tentative smile on his face, and all thoughts of the direction bats, cities and the direction of the sun fell away.

The smile, though crooked and a little strained was genuine, and relief poured like a waterfall through his bones. _This comes first,_ he told himself. _Jason. The boys. Alfred, Barbara, and Selina. No more getting twitchy. They’re going to come first now._

“I’m going to make breakfast,” Bruce said, pushing himself off the seat. “Anything you want.”

Jason’s smile grew wider. “I want Al to make breakfast.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “He found a waffle iron yesterday… I don’t want him to get any ideas.”

The smile turned into a blanch. “No. No waffles. He can’t make waffles. The last time I had his waffles might have been over five years ago, but trust me when I say I’m still digesting them.”

“I used the batter once for quick drying cement.”

“Really?”

“No. It was a joke. But don’t tell him I hate his waffles. He’s so proud of them.”

“I _know_ right?”

In the end, Bruce made bacon and eggs instead and later, when Alfred and Selina had woken up, and after they all shared a late lunch, Jason disappeared for a little while and returned with sand beneath his fingernails and pressed into his knees like he’d been digging.

He winked at Bruce as he stepped inside again with the same cheeky grin he’d worn as a kid.

The waffle iron was never seen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of something to say about please leave a review, and had a flash back to the mid-2000s of fanfiction. Remember when tween girls used to make suicide threats for reviews? Or they would hold the story hostage and say things like, "I'm not going to update until I get at least 10 reviews."
> 
> lol
> 
> Those were the days.
> 
> (P.S. I'm not going to update until I get at least 10... Oh shit. Last chapter of the story. God dammit!) :P
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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